


Do you still believe in hope?

by Rae_Saxon



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Dancing, F/M, Hurt and comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22603321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rae_Saxon/pseuds/Rae_Saxon
Summary: The Master is broken and the Doctor finally realises, only a few decades too late.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 195





	Do you still believe in hope?

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to write little Thirteen/Master fluff scenes whenever someone shits on Doctor/Master. It worked out! Except.... for the fluff.

Seeing him standing there, in this full club, a drink in his hand and a face of slight discomfort on his face, was surreal, so surreal in fact, she blinked several times to give him the chance to vanish like an illusion.

Instead, he put down his drink, stepping closer towards her, having spotted her in the exact same moment as she had him.

“Doctor,” he greeted her, the faintest idea of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

“Master,” she gave back, cautiously, suspiciously, eyeing him.

“Dance with me.”

He held out a hand to her, and it looked incredibly inviting. Something about him seemed softer this incarnation, and for a second she caught herself imagining how her hand would feel in his, how they'd feel pressed together, as they whirled over the dance floor.

Then she remembered she couldn't.

“I don't think so.”

He raised an eyebrow and she could see from the lack of grace that little gesture had, from the slight slurring of his words, that he was drunk.

“Growing tired of me, are you?”

Her face softened, only a little.

“Never,” she whispered, knowing he could still hear her, even over the music, over everything, then pointed to her friends on the dance floor, all three of them, dancing out of tact, having fun. “I just want to give them an evening without having to worry about me. You're not exactly that, are you?”

He smirked, but something about it didn't reach his eyes, made them look dead and cold. With one last look at her friends, the Doctor stepped slightly closer, taking his hands.

“Master,” she sighed. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged.

“Not much to do, when you're stuck on this hell hole of a planet for 70 years, is there,” he gave back bitterly. “I live close here. My neighbours give me nasty looks and write me threatening letters. They think I don't know it's them.” He snorts. “They're only still alive because I'm planning on peeling them off their skin alive. They seem so proud of it.”

“Okay,” she muttered, looking around frantically, while leading him outside gently. They were standing on a packed London street and the cold night air made the Master blink, as he slowly seemed to wake out of his alcohol induced haze.

“This planet stinks, Doctor,” he muttered. “I don't know why you like them so much, humans. All they do all day long is hate another for who they are.”

“Loads of humans do stink,” she agreed with a gentle little smile. “Loads don't.”

He narrowed his eyes, staring at her dully, his stance slightly wavering.

“You,” he breathed and she could smell the alcohol with a grimace. “Who are you?”

“Are you kidding me?” she snorted, but he rolled his eyes impatiently. “You pretend so much, I'm not sure you know anymore. Did you give up on me?”

Had his eyes always been so hallow, she wondered? God, did he really believe that?

“Give up on you?” she asked, suddenly feeling much, much colder. “I... what?”

“You said you wouldn't. You said hope is the last... the last thing to go, that you'd always hold onto it, that it's what you fight for, but I know you and I know you're not the person you try to seem like for them. Where's your hope, Doctor? Who am I without your hope?”

This had gotten far too real, far too quickly. The Doctor swallowed.

“Listen,” she finally brought out. “I don't.. I haven't...” She took a deep breath, but the words broke out of her, before she could stop them, before she could even think. “I tried to give you your chance, didn't I? And here you are again, crueller and colder than before, and our planet is in ashes!”

He looked at her, silently. There was pain in his eyes, so deep, so apparent, not even the alcohol could numb it. People walked past them, ramming him, but he didn't even register it, stumbled slightly, then stood still again, his eyes never wavering from hers.

“I knew it,” he finally whispered. “I knew it.”

Something cold seemed to grip the Doctor's hearts and she shook her head, trying to calm down.

“No, I... What about you? Have you given up on you?” she asked quietly and he laughed, the bitter sound still echoing in her mind even when he had long fallen silent again.

“Centuries ago. The only thing I still had was your hope. But it's true, isn't it? I told you. This is what I'm supposed to be.”

She remembered, vividly. Remembered him standing in front of her, heart on his hearts, urgency on his face, telling her killing gave him a buzz, made him feel like he was doing what he was supposed to do. It had been far longer for him than for her, she knew that, but here he was standing, getting drunk over it and it was only then the Doctor caught on to the true meaning of his words.

She shook her head, softly at first, then more determined.

“No,” she said, finally finding back her voice. Hell, it was true, he got her so right. She was tired, drained. She hadn't wanted this life, had wanted to lie down in peace and even though she had changed her mind and regenerated, she could still feel the old exhaustion on the edges of her soul, closing in constantly. She had seen so much darkness, fought so much evil, and a part of her, a tiny part, had thought with Gallifrey back, maybe one day she could forget, move on, rest. Go back home, feel like she belonged for a while. Like she had something to return to. All that had gone, all that was destroyed, but if there was one thing she still needed hope for, it was for him.

“No, no that's not true. You're more than that. I know you. Do you hear me? I _know_ you are.”

“I tried,” he replied hoarsely. “I tried to be all you wanted me to be and I wrecked our home instead. That's who I am. What I am. All I can be.”

The Doctor thought back, back to when she had thought Gallifrey destroyed by her own hands, back to the guilt, the trauma, the ever-returning vision of flames, the screams of her dying race resounding in her mind, and she pressed his hands warmly, shaking her head yet again.

“I know what it feels like,” she promised with a hushed voice, almost stumbling over her own words in her haste to reassure him. “I know what it's like to feel like this... this monster inside of you is consuming you, is eating away every other chance. I know what it feels like to look at the ashes of your home planet and know there's no way to come back from this. But look at me. Look at me. Have you ever, just _once_ , thought I was hopeless?”

The Master frowned, then shook his head slowly.

“But you're different...”

“Different than what? You? Please.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds, the Master seemingly looking for words, than a wide, crooked smile appeared on his face. She smiled back at him, kissing his forehead.

She remembered Missy, standing before her, her blue eyes sharp and so, so clever, always so clever, as she told her “I need you to know we're not so different.”

Well, she knew now. And from the look on his face, he had still needed her to, so much even, it made her hearts beat faster.

“Ask me again,” she whispered and he frowned, thinking for a second, before his face lightened up.

“Dance with me?”

She nodded, his hands still in hers, and he looked confused, nothing but bass made its way outside of the club they had left, people were passing them left and right, but he still laid an arm around her waist and pulled her close, danced to the tact of a quiet song only they could hear.

For a few minutes, they danced in utter silence, swaying through the night, attracting amused and affectionate gazes, but they barely even registered anything but each other, their eyes closed, the Master gently humming along as he led the Doctor.

It was stupid, but peaceful and for a little while, in a little bubble of harmony, they both seemed utterly okay.

It was then, in the quiet of the night, his cheek close to hers, his breath on her ear, as he whispered words, so softy, she had almost missed them.

“Don't leave me.”

Her eyes snapped open and immediately were facing his, and he sighed.

“It's like I'm... a different person when I'm with you. Like this. Like I remember who I really am. And I can feel it slipping, I... I don't want you to leave again, I can't.. I don't like who I am, alone.”

The Doctor remembered what was still to come for him, remembered herself leaving him stranded in another dimension and winced in regret.

She took his hand, thinking of her friends only for a second, before she decided he needed a night without worries far, far more than they did right now.

She led him to her TARDIS and straight to the bedroom, stripping him of his clothes one by one. His pain-filled eyes were resting on her, a faint, weak gleam of aching hope and craving in them, and she sighed, as she pushed off her own clothes, pulled him onto the bed and wrapped around him.

She couldn't see him blink away the tears, but she knew they were they. Hell, it didn't take a lot to realise no one had touched the Master like this in, what, decades? Maybe even centuries? Sex, sure, they had done that, but holding him, embracing him, accepting him like this?

She ran her fingers through his dark hair comfortingly, watched over him, as his breathing slowly evened and peace came over his face. He wasn't asleep, she could feel his mind still working, still brimming with life next to hers, but he was resting, finally resting, like she had wanted to so badly, at home.

A little, tentative smile appeared on her face, a real one, not one of the bright, fake ones she gave her friends. She couldn't change what the future had in store for him, not anymore, couldn't change what she had already done to him, but right now, all that mattered was that they were here, together.

“Don't you ever leave me,” she whispered, the tips of her fingers gently caressing the back of his head and the corners of his mouth twitched.

“Not gonna happen,” he muttered sleepily and she laughed.

“Good. Don't let me push you away. You're the only home I have.”

She let herself slide down and curled up next to him, one arm wrapped around his waist, still holding him, his head still resting on her other.

“Should've ended Gallifrey far earlier, then,” came the quiet reply and the Doctor decided to pretend to have fallen asleep, so she wouldn't have to deal with catching herself agreeing.


End file.
